| Chex |

The men in armour were shouting incomprehensible words at him. Whether he couldn't understand them due to a language barrier or because his hearing simply refused to take the words in, he didn't know, but the loud noises only served to muddle his brain further, dragging a guttural snarl from his throat when he pushed his aching body back into a standing position.

More of the men were coming from various directions, driven forward by the sound of fighting and the smell of death. It was almost overwhelming, the stench of iron-rich blood, the taste horrid from droplets that had managed to get onto his bared teeth and peeled-back lips. His tongue lapped over his fangs, wiping them clean before he dove towards another man, claws tearing through armour and flesh long before his body hit the floor.

The demon only stopped when he heard Ouray speak, dropping the body and stepping back to be closer to the younger man.

We need to leave. I can't use my- We need to get out.

Ouray couldn't use his powers, Chex knew that. The nature witch had not been taught properly and couldn't use the powers his heritage had given him. The demon also knew that he couldn't hold off an entire army, which is what would eventually compile on them in the marketplace. They needed to leave. Maybe he could buy Ouray enough time to get out and then he could just go into the other realm--

Smoke clouded his vision, and he felt Ouray touch his arm.

The low noise that left his chest was one of confirmation, not aggression, moving to follow the witch. It was a building that went to another part of the marketplace, another place he was unfamiliar with.

"We need to get back to the forest," he said, voice rough when he leaned down to speak the words to the witch. "That way I can change my form, and get us both out of here quicker." If he could become something rideable, perhaps something similar to large wolf or a horse, then he and Ouray could get of the area quick enough to outrun anyone chasing them.

Why were there so many guards?

Rummaging through his basket, Ouray's hands trembled as they searched for more potions. Even though he couldn't use them properly, he still searched. He felt useless if he didn't do something, anything. Despite his portions hardly working, didn't they do something? Even minor?

Releasing a shaky breath, Ouray's lip nearly quivered. He felt like a coward. He felt like he did when his mother died.. he felt like running. One would think that years spent in the forest would make him braver or more experienced, but right now, he felt like a child again. A hopeless, unable, sad excuse for a child.

So, when Chex spoke of returning to the forest, Ouray simply nodded, gripping Chex's arm tighter.

Child indeed.

"I don't know how.. We can't get past the crowds." Looking around, the witch paused, understanding what to do. He needed to shift into something to get them out. He knew that he could use his deer form with confidence, but he doubted that he would be able to carry Chex with limited strength. He needed something bigger. Something sturdier, but what? He tried shifting into other animals before, and even that didn't work as well. But he owed it to himself and Chex to try.

He would become a horse.

Inhaling sharply, Ouray stretched his neck out and shook out his arms. All he needed to do was focus. He needed to envision the creature, every part of it. He needed to understand it in order to become it.

"Here, hold my basket," he spoke, shoving it into Chex's arms before stepping back. He needed more space.

Closing his eyes, Ouray nodded to himself, releasing a series of mutters of encouragement. He begun to picture the horse, taking in every minor detail until..

Nothing happened.

"Just.. just give me a second," he stammered.

Shaking his arms out again, Ouray tried again, focusing on the idea of a horse and becoming one. He did it with the deer, how hard could it be to become a horse? For Heavens sake, they looked similar enough!

For several precious moments, nothing worked. He was forced to open his eyes and look around, feeling an inner panic that the fog had begun to die, and with it, his and Chex's figured being exposed. It was only when the guards saw them did something shift in Ouray. It was a tremor of sorts, and he knew that he had succeeded. Seeing the guards was all the encouragement he needed to turn.

Slowly, he felt himself shift, his legs outstretching and face growing more narrow until he stood on all fours and looked down at Chex with two beady eyes. He was a simple horse. Something along the lines of a dapple palomino in appearance, though ranging on the darker colour.

Now, Ouray couldn't speak when in animal form, so he simply stood for a moment, staring at the demon before him. However, his eyes shifted onto the approaching guards, and within moments, Ouray took off next to Chex, expecting him to hop on to his back while mid-run. At full speed, he baralled himself through the guards, causing some to topple to the ground, for they were too slow to take their swords.

Propelling himself forwards, Ouray moved as fast as he could, his legs thundering beneath him. The adrenaline he felt made him move quickly, dodging people and pushing past others. However, he didn't need to do much. People moved out of instinct in fear of being trampled.

He ran until the edge of the forest came into view, a fence of stone separating himself from it.

Ouray was prepared to come to a halt, but a last second decision had made him increase his speed until he used his hind legs to throw himself into the air and over the fence, landing on the other side. It was a clumsy landing, but Ouray didn't care, because he did it! He escaped! He saved himself and Chex by using his powers! Him. He did this!

A loud whinny could be heard from his lips, until his amusement fell. In the distance, the sight of guards upon their own horses were approaching. Thus, he didn't celebrate for very long, and within seconds, he was off again, vanishing into the tree line.

[ Chex ]

The demon watched Ouray shift and change, trying to get the smoke out of his lungs with heaving breaths, struggling to listen to see if the guards had noticed their escape over the sounds of chaos that he'd no doubt created. Screams, stamping steps, heavy movements, shouts of panic--the public and the guards alike hadn't expected to have a demon turn on them when they'd gone after a witch, there was no doubt about that.

After only a few moments, he saw that the man he knew, Ouray, had turned into a horse. For a moment, he opened his mouth, ready to tell the man to leave, to get out, that he could handle himself, but there was blood pooling in his palm where it was pressed to his stomach, and he was struggling to remember for the healing spell with the chaos that he'd caused.

His head snapped around at the sound of more metal clanking, spotting guards coming towards them. He reached out for Ouray, feeling the horse beginning to move, and quickly latched onto him, pulling himself up onto his back. He needed the spell, but what was it?

The healing spell could heal physical wounds caused by physical means--fists, blades, anything physical. Magic needed another spell, a stronger spell, a better and harder to master spell. Wounds from other demons... there was no spell to instantly cure those that the demons knew of. Basic healing spells could speed up the healing process, but not in the way other healing spells of demons did things.

He barely noticed it when Ouray jumped, frowning to himself. He wouldn't die of the wounds from the guards, demons had to be killed very particularly, otherwise they recovered and came back for revenge. The higher-up demons had long ago done as much as they could to wipe the knowledge of how to kill a demon out of the humans minds, and now the humans, the witches particularly, had taken to accidentally using the correct technique whilst doing everything they could to the demon.

He glanced backwards after a long 'moment', seeing that no one was within eyeshot, and said: "Ouray, stop," softly, not waiting for the man to listen to him before flinging himself off and to the side. He landed on his feet, pulling his shirt up to expose the wound on his stomach. He made a low noise, similar to a growl, and laid his empty hand across it.

The spell.

He thought for a moment, before it smacked him in the face as if it were the most obvious thing. He grunted, muttering the short collection of words, and gritted his teeth as the wound began to heal. All the spells did was speed up the healing process, not heal it completely by itself. So his flesh knitted back together, scar tissue taking up the space it was meant to and forming a pale scar along his abdomen.

"Ouray, I'm gonna need you to either go back to your hut," he began, hearing the distant sound of hooves coming quickly closer. "Or to stay very far behind me," he looked towards the horse, frowning slowly. "Either way, I'll deal with the guards following us."